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I talk to my dead friend on Facebook

I had a friend.  She shot herself in the head. There was a time-lapse between these two statements.  Not quite a year, but close.

I miss her.  I am, despite my upbringing, a religious person (it’s a joke, I was raised fundamentally).  So when she died, I had to deal with, “what if,” and my minister father said to me the most important thing he has said thus far, I don’t remember the specifics, but if offered redemption for a suicide.  And he knew her; Pop had met my friend, and whilst everything was gone wrong, he spoke to me, (BTW, Pop’s really good at funerals).

So just because she took off doesn’t mean I don’t have questions for her.  I lost my favorite uncle when I was 14, and I’ve been wanting to ask him life questions for years.  Those are hardcore, my questions for Kathy are funny; “have you ever cooked this dish?” “are you watching this show?” “do you think I’ll die alone?”

I didn’t mention what she was like.  She was FUN.  She was nurturing.  She was faithful.  I can still see her, even with my eyes open.  It’s a past her, and I want a present her.

But I think I’ll keep tossing thoughts to her.  Cause she has kids who check her Facebook page.  And I know it matters to them that their mother mattered to someone, despite the rest.  So I talk to her to remind me, and her, and a few others, because I miss her, and I don’t write in a journal any more. . .

“Geez, Kath, I miss you.  I’ve thought it through all the things I should say, and what I could have said, and I’ve talked to Melissa, and I’ve tried to move on, so. . .

I love you, my crazy dead friend.  You didn’t give us much of a choice (Melissa and I drove to Milledgeville). . . and one of your nieces read a poem she found on Wikipedia.  Melissa and I thought we were about to get kicked out.  For giggling.  At your funeral.  Shit, you would have been pissed off!  Next time, leave more than three days food for the cat.

Your (still) annoyed, sad, missing you,



About clocklearf

I've wanted to be a writer since the third grade.


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